


A Good Morning

by crossingwinter



Series: The Stripper AU No One Asked For [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, this is too short to be anything other than pure porn btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s too early in the morning for this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Morning

She wakes to him nuzzling her, his hand resting lightly on her stomach with his fingers extending up, up, up to the undersides of her breasts.  

"Morning," he murmurs into her neck, his hand moving up to cup her, fingers kneading into her.  Oh—she could kill him.

"Gendry," she grumbles, "It’s too early in the morning for this."  She doesn’t open her eyes—she doesn’t  _want_  to.  Because she’d have to either see what ungodly hour he’s waking her up at, written in red like some sort of curse across her eyes, or she’d have to look at him, and she’s not quite in the mood for that, given the ungodly hour.  He’s moving his head now, nudging her cheek with his nose, and she feels stubble on his chin.  

"Is it though?" His lips are on her ear now.  "I don’t think so."  And he nudges her with his pelvis and she feels his cock, stiff and hot against her.

"Look, just because you’ve got morning wood doesn’t mean that…that…" It’s too early though, and she can’t think of a proper retort.  "You know what I mean."

"Well," he releases her ear and she feels his lips quirked in a smile against her cheek.  His breath is warm, and his hand on her breast has gone from gently cupping to lightly twisting her nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.  "See, I wake up with wood every morning.  That doesn’t mean I want to have sex every morning, do I?  This is a special occasion."

"Oh," Arya mutters dryly.  "And why is that?  Did you have a dirty dream or something?"

He doesn’t reply.  Instead, he pushes up her t-shirt—his t-shirt, she supposes, since she’d stolen it from him two months before and had refused to give it back—and his hand is hot on her skin now.  She gasps.  His grin broadens.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

She’s tempted to hit him—elbow him between the legs or pinch him on his stomach, maybe, or even just roll over so she’s got her face in the pillows and her breasts and stomach to the mattress.  But instead she curls into him and kisses him full on the mouth, chewing on his lower lip a little bit while she draws her fingers up his arms.

"What did you dream about, then?" she asks.

"I dreamed about you, obviously," he says dryly.  He drops his hand down between her legs and cups her cunt.

"I got that," she mutters.  "I meant—"

"That you were sucking my cock," he whispers into her lips.

"That all?" she asks.  "I’d rather imagined something a little more salacious than that."  She reaches up and pinches his nipple through his t-shirt, and his grin widens.  

"Well, it was.  But I’d rather show you."

"Show me?"

"Yes.  Show you."

"I know how to suck your cock, Gendry."

He swats her on the butt and she squeaks.  ”That I am well aware of.  It’s the other bit—the salacious bit.”

She rolls her eyes and sits up.  ”Fine then.  What is it then?”

He sits up and kisses her again, and guides her head down to his cock.  ”You know, you could be more subtle than just pushing me at it,” she grumbles, pulling it free of his boxers and opening her mouth, circling the head first with her tongue before sucking him in.  She hears him hum happily.

"Put your hands on the bed, I don’t want you to lose balance."

"Lose bal—" She’s very glad that she had put her hands on the bed because he’s got her hips in his hands, lifting her up and pulling them towards his—oh.  Yeah—that would get him frisky in the morning.

Her knees are on either side of his face now, and his lips are on her cunt, and he’s licking, sucking, circling her with his tongue and she pauses in the bobbing of her head for just a moment, letting the warmth of him wash over her.  And, as she does, he pauses too.

"Why’d you stop?" she demands.

"Why’d  _you_  stop?”

"Is this some kind of suicide pact?"

"Only if it’s a Shakespearean style death."

"God you  _would_  bring up Shakespeare in bed.”

"I think I get five points for that."  She can hear the smirk in his voice and goes back to sucking his cock just to shut him up and oh—it’s just  _distracting_  having him doing that while she’s blowing him.  Usually she has  _at most_  his hands in her hair, on her cheeks, maybe on her breasts while she sucks, and she can focus properly but now—

She shifts her hips, rocking them against his face a little, and he begins to lift his hips under her, his cock pressing deeper into her throat.  She circles the head of his cock with her tongue, and he pulls her clit into his mouth and sucks; she traces the veins down his shaft and he swipes widely along her labia; she presses that spot right where his crown meets his shaft, sucking her lips around it and— _jesus_  that’s just now fair how is she supposed to concentrate while he does  _that?_

That’s when she decides she’s going to win—that she’s going to get him off properly before he gets her off just so she can fucking enjoy it without any distractions.  She cups his balls in one hand and begins moving her head faster, taking him deeper into her mouth.  She voids the air from her mouth completely and runs her tongue along him, circling him, hearing him moan,  _feeling_ him moan against her cunt, no longer quite able to focus on licking her, and she feels the rush of cum through her lips as he begins to spurt inside her. 

She swallows down every drop, smiling to herself as she releases him and drops her head down onto his thigh, watching as his cock slowly begins to lose it’s color and droop.  She strokes the hair on his legs and coughs not so subtly.  

He gets the hint and his lips are on her again, and she feels him smiling against her skin as his tongue probes into her vagina, curling as best he can towards her g-spot, even though they both know he won’t reach it.  His fingers are holding her lips apart as he pulls his tongue out, and he licks along them as he makes his way back up to her clit.

She hadn’t gone easy on him—he doesn’t go easy on her, sucking her clit between his lips, circling it with his tongue, criss-crossing it and swishing in every direction she’s not anticipating.  She moans and pumps her hips against his face, and she feels him nudging her with his nose while he catches his breath, and the sudden sturdiness of it makes  her almost—but not quite.  No, not quite.  She’s not there yet.  But his tongue is back now, pressing, circling and his lips suck and he slips two fingers into her right as he rubs his tongue over her clit one last time.

She comes apart, trembling, shaking her cunt clenching around his fingers and her blood rushing so hot through her that her skin suddenly feels cold.  She gasps, and grips his legs because they’re warm and his and oh—it’s too early in the morning for this, but she can’t quite bring herself to care.

She rolls off him at some point, even though her cunt is still clutching, and her clit is still throbbing because this was a good one and she stares up at the ceiling.

"See why I needed that?" he says to her.  He’s reaching down and playing with her breast again.

"Mm-hmm."

"Special occasion.  Salacious dream."

"Shut up and let me bask, will you?"

He snorts.  ”As if.”


End file.
